


Nightmare in Nirvana

by Punk_Kenobi



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Acrophobia, Anxiety, Force Visions, Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Padawan Learning, Padawan Tests, Poor Obi-Wan, Premonitions are his thing, Previous Trauma, Sprititual Journeys, fear of failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_Kenobi/pseuds/Punk_Kenobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaching new heights is terrifying for someone who doesn't like his feet to leave solid ground. Apparently it's even more terrifying when they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare in Nirvana

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something that came out of the idea that the Coruscant Jedi Temple has grandiose architecture, so how about a big fucking flight of stairs that Jedi can meditate on, pace around on, or even send their Padawans on spiritual journeys on! 
> 
> Basically I turned the prompt of climbing fucking stairs into something remotely interesting. Enjoy!

Qui-Gon has to do something about the now spluttering teen dripping in the living room of their shared quarters.

“This is the third time I’ve had to pull you up from drowning, Obi-Wan.”

“Bant dared me to do it, Master, you know I can’t-!”

“Enough.” Qui-Gon holds up a hand. “You’re nearing fifteen years old, you cannot be behaving this way simply because Bant told you to do something. That is childish and dangerous behavior.”

Obi-Wan pouts in a way that makes Qui-Gon fight to keep from rolling his eyes. His Padawan, as smart and dedicated to the Jedi way as he is, could be and is melodramatic to a fault. For all of Obi-Wan’s strengths, his failings have not yet left him. Qui-Gon’s only hope is that they leave when his Padawan’s adolescence does, as well as his stunts in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, for example.

“Master…” Obi-Wan looks at the carpet, genuine penitence in his eyes. “It was little more than a game.”

“Regardless, it is not the Jedi way and you nearly got yourself killed. You need to learn to avoid intentionally dangerous situations.”

Obi-Wan snorts, obviously frustrated. “Since when have you ever decided that danger is something to avoid? You approach it by running straight at it!”

“Silence.” Qui-Gon knows Obi-Wan is right, but he’s not about to argue at the moment. “Perhaps the Climb will temper your tongue.”

“The Climb?!” Obi-Wan looks back up in protest. “Surely there’s something else! The last time a Padawan did that, they were sent to the healers!”

“It’ll give you time to think and perhaps even dry off a tad.” Qui-Gon raises his eyebrows. “Besides, wouldn’t you like to do something that I have never completed?”

The change in Obi-Wan’s expression is almost laughable. “What?”

Qui-Gon knows Obi-Wan’s weakness for being challenged is a terrible thing to encourage. ”Oh, I tried when I was a Padawan, many times. I think it could be a good learning experience for you as it was for me.”

“Of course, Master.” A corner of Obi-Wan’s lips turn up, the beginning of a grin that Qui-Gon knows is dangerous. “I think I should, perhaps, dry off.”

Obi-Wan bows as per custom, spiked hair and braid dripping more water onto the floor. Qui-Gon feels what he can only identify as a mix between exasperation and fondness.

—–

Obi-Wan sometimes hates his Master, though perhaps hate is too strong a word for his feelings.

Coruscant has fallen under the heavy blanket of a particularly brutal summer. The urban planet’s summers tend to carry with them a distinct sense that none of the air ever moves around despite all the speeders and ships that move to and fro. A thick layer of humidity and a strange dryness in the atmosphere descend as the sunlight burns through the ozone. Obi-Wan feels like he’s cooking in an oven as he ascends the stairs that every Padawan looks on with trepidation. He looks up and sees how many more he has and nearly cries out in frustration.

_I’ve had to be climbing for at least an hour!_  He thinks to himself.  _Or two? I’m starting to lose track…that’s not good. Focus._

Each step in his boots reminds him that he’s not as fit as he should be, sighing as his hand grips onto the rail that lines each set of stairs, aiding those who need the assistance. Certainly he doesn’t, not at all, though his grip on the rail releases hurriedly when the durasteel exposed to the sun nearly burns him.

“Thrice curse those who designed this kriffing Temple to have a stairway to the heavens…” Obi-Wan pants, growling.

Obi-Wan tries to climb, watches the stairs above him grow closer and closer. He tries not to look behind him, the fear of how high he’s climbed lending to his rather irrational fear of heights. Even so, his curiosity gets the best of him and he gazes down at the city that looms so, so far below. Obi-Wan takes a couple breaths so as to not faint and turns right back around and keeps his rather steady pace.

There seems to be a drop-off point that has to be the halfway point everyone talks about. The gist of it is that in order to continue, one has to avoid the temptation to sit in one of the comfortable chairs poised underneath shady overhangs. Most Padawans who stop here never start again. The temptation of sloth sounds quite good to him right about now.

_Perhaps Qui-Gon was right, this is a learning experience in masochism._

As his feet reach level ground, Obi-Wan resists the urge to fall to his knees. The sun is bearing down on him, turning what exposed skin he has a furious pink. He can tell the skin of his arms is starting to peel. The worst part is his thirst, which he alleviates at a drinking fountain in careful sips. He knows many become ill after drinking too fast so he paces himself and looks up at the trip he still has to go. He pointedly makes an effort to not look over at the comfy chairs that house soft pillows and cooling reprieve. His legs ache, his stomach clenches with the new material put in it, and he wonders if he can surpass his Master at all.

_I can. Master Qui-Gon told me he hadn’t done it but I can definitely do it._

_Did he make a bet? Is this a trick punishment?_

_Listen to your instincts, trust them, that’s what they all say._

Obi-Wan listens. He takes his first step past the halfway point even though the inside and outside of him burns.

After a while, he soon doesn’t even wish to complete the Climb for the kriffing bet, he just wants to say he’s done what few have done. Soon after that, he regrets his choice to continue onward entirely. Over time his freckled skin, already pink, now turns an even more furious red and though he’d had water, it felt like he hadn’t had any in years. As his feet slog up each step, Obi-Wan tries not to feel genuine hatred for his situation or for Qui-Gon for putting him here, turning his frustration inward.

_I chose to talk back. I chose to question Master Qui-Gon. I suppose that means I chose this, too, and I cannot back down now. Master Qui-Gon will think lesser of me if I cannot take the punishment I earned foolishly. I’ll have let him down…_

As he thinks, his disdain grows less as a resigned acceptance of his trek increases, which makes his steps eerily lighter, though as if he were floating the rest of the way. His vision blurs and…

_…Bantha herds and a home in a vast desert sea of dunes startle him as a cloaked figure travels with ease over the shifting sand nearby._

_“Hello there!” He greets the figure jovially, as is his way, not sensing danger from this person…_

…and his legs quake dangerously under him but he knows he has to complete this, not for bragging rights but to prove he stuck to his guns. If not, his integrity would be in question. He manages to keep his eyes open and focuses on the wavy lines that make the stairs above him and not the way his skin peels or how his boots have become so uncomfortable, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were blood on his heels…

_…the figure has blood on its wrinkled, worn hands, entire wellsprings of it, flowing from the cloak and dripping or pouring onto the sand. It turns just the slightest towards him then casts its face downward. Doesn’t move, doesn’t speak._

_He approaches the figure slowly, one hand holding the hilt of his saber, and he reaches an arm out to touch the shoulder of the figure. “Hello? What are you doing here?”_

_The figure finally turns his head to look…_

…he’s almost there, he can feel it, twenty more steps…

_…as a voice hoarse with disuse sounds eerily familiar somehow and speaks quietly._

_“I walk the desert as my penitence, I wear the lives of all those I failed.”_

_“What?” he asks almost childishly in confusion. “What did you do?”_

_“I loved. I lost. I loved and lost again. Over and over I made the same mistake as the world turned darker, took more than it gave, and I failed everyone…”_

_The blood spills more freely now, making him yelp when it starts to envelop him in the form of a cloak, the sound of screams and shrieks loud in his ears. “Wh-What is this?!”_

_“You will learn to hide your face as I do in time.” The figure speaks. “Hide from everyone the failure that you are…”_

_“What is your name? What are you?” He feels the blood sink into his clothes, make him feel heavy, then choke him as it pours down his throat to silence him. The screams nearly deafen but he can make out words around them._

_“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am a failure.”_

_Bony hands pull him into an embrace as his muffled shrieks join the cacophony, he feels he cannot breathe…_

His face collides roughly with cool, smooth stone and he finally, finally allows himself rest when he realizes that this is the top of the Climb, though tears of exhaustion drip to the floor and a wail escapes him before he can even close his eyes.

He feels immense sadness that only inky blackness can swallow along with his sobs.

—–

Qui-Gon knows how harrowing the Climb can be. He never knew until becoming a Jedi Knight that every Padawan is put up to this test nor did he know that the distance one goes matters little. The true test is of what kind of person a Padawan is under pressure for the Master’s benefit in teaching. That’s why the halfway point exists. It gives those who feel they would rather stop an optional point to rest before descending or being assisted while also supporting those who wish to go onward. The test is entirely at the pace and completion of the Padawan and only the initiation is controlled by the Master.

Qui-Gon pulls out his communicator and tries calling Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan, are you receiving my message?”

He gets no response. In this case, every Padawan is given three tries over the span of a couple of minutes to respond before the Master ascends through a hidden service lift to bring their Padawans to safety. His second try results in no answer so Qui-Gon makes his way towards the lift nervously. His previous Padawans had done well, though they had given up early on, one because of injury and the other due to his own hubris. Obi-Wan worries him in particular because he knows he’s so stubborn that hubris nor injury would stop him if he were determined.

“Obi-Wan, please respond and acknowledge my message.”

The fact that the sun is nearly set worries him alone, as Obi-Wan had started early in the afternoon.

_“Master…”_

A weak voice responds to his hail and Qui-Gon’s heart spikes. “Obi-Wan, where are you?”

_“At the top…I-I did it, but…”_

Qui-Gon can hear frantic sobbing over the comm, getting into the lift. “I’m making my way to you, Obi-Wan, just wait a minute.”

As the doors to the lift close, Qui-Gon wonders what he’ll find there at the top. He wonders if it was too soon for Obi-Wan to do the Climb. The lift rises too slow for his liking but eventually it does reach the top. Qui-Gon exits and circles around to where the steps end.

Qui-Gon finds Obi-Wan curled into a ball on the stone, the sobbing even more painful to his ears when heard through his own ears. He rushes over to his side, brushing his hysterical Padawan’s hair back.

This is the worst he’s seen Obi-Wan since he nearly got his memory wiped. The aftermath had left him traumatized and Qui-Gon had sat with his new Padawan during the night for weeks, lest nightmares take him and Obi-Wan would scream for him until he was safe in Qui-Gon’s arms, letting him cry and shake through the terror until he fell back asleep. Though the healers of the spirit were offered, Obi-Wan refused them and instead decided to learn to cope on his own. Qui-Gon fears this may be taking an equal toll on him that may have been more than what he had intended for the test.

Turning Obi-Wan gingerly onto his back, Qui-Gon takes stock of the injuries Obi-Wan allowed himself to endure. Profound sunburn, for one thing, likely due to Obi-Wan’s very fair complexion. His muscles were strained and he likely had foot injuries if his own climb was any indication. Obi-Wan’s ramblings and sobs are barely lucid in nature and Qui-Gon can feel his pulse race under his fingers, so Qui-Gon can only guess that heat stroke has set in, which means he needs to get Obi-Wan to the healers immediately.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to carry you to the Halls of Healing, alright?” Qui-Gon tries but Obi-Wan must not be able to listen.

“The screams, they hurt…” Obi-Wan laments.

“I know, young one, just bear with me.”

The weight of Obi-Wan on Qui-Gon’s back as he gathers him up, secures him with an arm, and makes sure his head is on his shoulder reminds him that this could be a real mission he rushes to the lift doors, using the Force to slide them open. He can feel Obi-Wan’s breath on his neck as well as the tears staining his tunic. Making his way to the Halls of Healing as swiftly as he can, Qui-Gon sends Force energy of his own into his Padawan to help his healing. He knows Obi-Wan doesn’t excel at the healing arts, so his own self-healing ability is quite mediocre.

The healers take him from his arms when he arrives, though not exactly without some level of scorn in their expressions. It’s not exactly uncommon for Qui-Gon to have to haul his Padawans into the Halls, so they look down upon his every visit. Qui-Gon hears murmurs of a bacta tank for the severe sunburn and the injuries to his feet. No more than a couple of hours, perhaps overnight, but he knows how much Obi-Wan detests and fears bacta tanks, let alone healers. He’s grateful that Obi-Wan’s quieted his sobs and fallen asleep, though that could also mean his condition is worsening. Still, it makes the healers’ jobs a lot easier.

“We’ll get him ready and have him put under in a couple of minutes.” Healer Makar informs.

“Very good.” Qui-Gon replies with a smile. “I think I should stay and-“

“Master Jinn, I understand your concern but…”

The healers in the Halls know very well how Qui-Gon Jinn likes to hover and nose in on their work where his Padawans are concerned. She’s still fairly new out of training, however, and Qui-Gon hasn’t seen her in the Halls before.

“Makar, I am fairly sure you want me to stay.” Qui-Gon presses. “Unlike my previous Padawans, Obi-Wan is…rather unique and he will need my guidance.”

“Oh?” Makar crosses her arms in a huff. “How so?”

“You’ll see soon enough. He is very compliant while asleep, is he not?” Qui-Gon smirks. He remembers the fighting and fuss Obi-Wan put up on alien worlds while being healed in past missions.

“Yes, but that would be normal…” Makar stammers, unsure how to combat the persuasiveness of Qui-Gon Jinn. “Fine, very well, you may stay but you must stay out of our way while we work.”

“Of course.”

Qui-Gon, true to his word, stays in the background while the Healers set to their tasks, prepping Obi-Wan and fitting hydration and nutritional tubes into his arms before placing him into the tank. Qui-Gon watches his Padawan’s peaceful face as he floats in the gel, a serene expression compared to the pain of earlier. 

He can feel a disturbance soon enough as Obi-Wan stirs yet again an hour later, albeit barely. Things in the room begin quaking tenuously and he knows Obi-Wan’s innate senses have realized where he is and panic is starting to set in.

_Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan, calm yourself. You have done this before, you can do it again._

He’s not sure Obi-Wan heard him as things around the room begin to fall off of their shelves. Qui-Gon manages to catch most and send them back to their places with a wave of his fingers, but a few still fall and shatter all the same. Qui-Gon’s glad that Obi-Wan doesn’t have the strength to shatter the Temple’s bacta tanks as Makar rushes into the room soon enough and notes the broken containers.

“…I see why you insisted on staying.” She sighs, finding a droid to clean up the mess. “Bacta tank anxiety is only found mainly in non-sensitives, it’s rare to find a Jedi learner with it and nearly impossible to find a Knight with it. I wonder how it was not in his file, we would have kept watch on his neural and Force activity.”

“Yes, well, it seems Obi-Wan here might well have it for his entire life, at this rate. He hasn’t had to use a bacta tank in the Temple before but the ones he’s occupied before weren’t as strongly built, so there were…incidents.”

“Hmm…that’s specifically why these were made so strong.” Makar muses as she heads for the tank’s computer.

Qui-Gon relaxes back in the chair he occupies when he notices the trembling in the containers ceases for the time being, Makar typing in a few adjustments in the tank to increase the sedative. 

“It seems he should sleep fine now. I feel nothing from our bond.”

“I hope so.” Makar nods. “You may stay if it helps you be at ease. He should be out in a couple of hours but you need rest.”

“I will, Makar, don’t worry.” Qui-Gon smiles. “Let me know when he’s moved to a bed and awakened.”

“Of course, Master Jinn.” Makar smiles in turn as she leaves the two alone.

Qui-Gon feels his shoulders sag with the emotional impact of the day once she’s no longer around. Watching Obi-Wan float, insensate, calms the last vestiges of worry in his mind that still persisted. His Padawan’s braid floats upwards and back down in a hypnotic fashion. 

Soon enough, he’s awoken out of a slumber he didn’t realize he’d fallen into with a start. He can see out of the tank room that the windows are completely darkened with night.

“Padawan Kenobi is waking up. I told him you were here and what happened and he’s requested your presence before more medical procedures can take place.” Makar explains.

“I figured he might.” Qui-Gon chuckles and rises from his chair stiffly, making his way to the recovery beds. 

Obi-Wan rests in one of them on the far end of the complex, looking far too small for how old he is. Looking up, he smiles weakly.

“I completed the Climb, Master.” His eyes shine and Qui-Gon notes that he’s been holding back tears and his mental activity is frantic even though his emotional suppression is well underway.

“Indeed you did, and I’m proud of you. I’m very proud.” Qui-Gon replies with a smile, coming to stand next to the head of the bed. “I sense that isn’t what’s on your mind, however.”

The darkness around his Padawan’s aura has grown since Obi-Wan awoke, much like a shadow or veil that’s been pulled over him. Even now Obi-Wan curls his knees up to his chest, frowning. Qui-Gon is sure this is not intentional nor warranted, and so his familiar fear is tamped down and explained away.

“No.” Obi-Wan cannot lie and he knows it. “I…had a vision, Master, while on the steps. It was a terrible vision and I-I don’t understand it. I felt…felt tremendous sadness and guilt that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before…”

Obi-Wan’s lower lip trembles dangerously though he tries to stop it. Qui-Gon smooths back his still-wet hair soothingly.

“It was a vision, young one, which means it is not for certain that it is real,” Qui-Gon speaks quietly, “It might have even simply have been a hallucination from the heat.”

“No!” Obi-Wan wails. “It wasn’t, it was real, I was there, I just don’t know how…”

“Do you think you’ll need the spirit healers?” Qui-Gon knows the answer before he gets it, Obi-Wan shaking his head in response.

“N-No, please. I just want to get back to our quarters and meditate. I…I’ve had enough of stairs for a long time.”

Qui-Gon looks around to make sure there’s no one around before giving Obi-Wan a strong hug, much like he did before. “Shh…we can work on this together. I promise.”

Obi-Wan smiles weakly again. “Yes, Master.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them for several minutes before Obi-Wan speaks again.

“Master?”

“Hm?” Qui-Gon hums, still idly petting Obi-Wan’s hair.

“I feel dreadfully warm from the Climb, still. Perhaps a dip in the Fountains would be of help…”

Qui-Gon can’t even be mad when his ire rises because of the wary smile that accompanied the words and the small peals of laughter Obi-Wan makes. Instead he rolls his eyes and pats his shoulder. 

“Not until you’re completely well again and you’re swimming in the designated swimming pools this time.”

“Yes, Master.” came the chuckled reply.

_This boy will be the death of me…_  Qui-Gon thinks fondly.

 


End file.
